


march towards the inevitable

by seraf



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dubious Morality, First Aid, Foreshadowing, Head Injury, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Incest, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, Introspection, Missing Scene, Multi, Other, Paranoia, for some reason shuichi's tag just. doesnt exist?, you see kokichi is no longer bloody during the trial so SOMEONE had to have done something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 20:50:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19912015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraf/pseuds/seraf
Summary: kokichi, during the 3rd trial investigation, suffers from a severe head injury.the person who ends up treating it is far from expected.





	march towards the inevitable

kokichi almost crashes into him in the hallway, his steps too wobbly and eyes too unfocused to notice that he was walking right into kiyo. he's only saved from falling backwards by the slim, bandaged fingers that grab his wrist, holding him upright, kiyo tipping his head to the side in something like curiosity, something like concern.

blood rolls down kokichi's face, cakes in his hair along with dust, and he tries to grin at kiyo. ' it's a lie! it – well, i think it is. right? ' he brings his hand to his head, and looks at it with almost genuine surprise when it comes back stained with blood, as though he had forgotten about being injured in the first place. ' oh. or maybe that's the lie. '

gently, kiyo takes his upper arms in both hands, slowly sitting him down. it's . . . obviously kokichi has a head wound, the blood loss starting to get to him a little bit at least – if he's lucky, it's _just_ that, and not a concussion. kokichi doesn't resist as kiyo sits him down, just stares at his knees.

for a moment, kiyo considers just leaving him here. why should he care, anyway? with kokichi out of it like this, it would be that much easier for his crimes to go unsolved. but – this is going to be a pyrrhic victory whatever he does. he should at least make things fair.

' kokichi, ' he says, voice clear, ' can you tell me the name of this school? '

kokichi blinks for a moment. ' hope's peak academy, ' he responds automatically, and then frowns, like he's trying to remember something. ' wait – no, that's not right. the ultimate academy for gifted – gifted juveniles, right? ' kiyo frowned slightly, under the mask. he'd gotten it on the second try, at least. perhaps hope's peak was just the name of his last school . . . ?

' list those of us who are still alive, and our talents. '

kokichi looks irritable about the testing, but kiyo would prefer just to be safe. ' you, kiyo, ultimate anthropologist. me, ultimate supreme leader. kaito, ultimate astronaut. shuichi, ultimate detective. miu, ultimate inventor. himiko, ultimate magician. maki, ultimate child care- no, ultimate assassin. kii-boy, ultimate robot. ' he falls silent there, and kiyo waits a few beats, to see if he's intentionally forgetting tsumugi and gonta, or if they're just slipping his mind, right now.

' stay here, ' he instructs, and as quickly as he can, makes his way to the bathroom to retrieve some wet paper towels. in all technicality, if something is bleeding this much, you shouldn't wash it first, but kokichi's wound is so much of a mess of dried blood and grime and purple hair plastered everywhere that he can't actually tell the origin of the blood.

kokichi is right where he left him, though whether that's because he's actually listening to kiyo or because he can't stand back up is still questionable. he sits in front of him again, ignoring his flinches as he wipes off the dried blood, pushing his hair out of the way of the cut once it's cleared enough that he can see it. reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his spare roll of bandages, and begins to firmly wrap kokichi's head, holding his chin in place with one hand.

sugar water would be optimal for blood loss, but they are on the third floor . . . it isn't ideal, but perhaps he could get something from gonta's lab? he remembers having seen it in different forms when they had been . . . gathered, there.

he frowned slightly.

one question, of course, remained. ' how did you injure yourself, anyway, kokichi? you don't seem particularly clumsy. '

for a split second, kokichi's eyes suddenly turn sharp again, mouth pressing into a line. but only a second, and then he shrugs. ' i was looking at the left and right empty rooms, and i fell right through the floor almost as soon as i walked into the left room. busted my head riiiiight open! ' he grins, crookedly and a little too wide. ' shuichi and maki came in after a bit, and i think – ' he frowns. ' i think they woke me up, actually. the sound of them coming in. though i don't remember ever passing out. '

kiyo raises a thin brow. ' and they . . . ignored your bleeding? '

kokichi shrugs. ' welllll, can't really blame them, can i? they've got a mystery to solve. or . . . two of them, i guess. ' his eyes flick to kiyo again. ' or just one. i guess we'll have to see! '

so he did suspect. kiyo thought he might.

nonetheless, he retains his composure. ' so we will, ' he murmurs, voice placid, as the blood finally stops soaking through the layers of bandages he's put in place. he takes the damp paper towels and begins to wash the blood off of where it's caked onto kokichi's face, even as the other boy wrinkles his nose in vague protest, squirming under the ministrations.

it was almost _normal._

even though soon, nothing would be.

( he was calm. he was composed. he would not stutter. he would not waver, he would not falter. he would remember why he had done this – what better motive could there be, after all, than love? dismiss the tremor that exists for a second in his hands as he pins kokichi's hair out of his face, dismiss the sick feeling in his stomach that seems so out of place – hadn't he killed before? why, then, was he so nauseous? – dismiss the doubts that pass through him each time he speaks to one of his classmates. )

it would be fine. given what kokichi had discovered, he is coming to terms that his murder of tenko will likely be laid bare. but angie's death, though originally incidental, is the only one that will be on trial. and that . . . he hadn't left any obvious evidence. maybe he could still win, after all. could get out of here.

( what reason does he have to get out of here? why is there this sick pit of guilt in his stomach? who does he have on the outside, anymore? _she_ is dead – what does he have to go back to that was worth the lives of two people? )

with a brisk shake of his head, he dismisses the intrusive thoughts that threaten to spill over. he will retain his composure. there is no undoing anything he has done, so why let doubt take him now?

* * *

he knows kiyo did it.

tenko's death, at least – while he's not sure of all the facts, using the séance to kill someone, preparing all three rooms for that eventuality . . . that was something only kiyo would have done, _could_ have done. the student council's ban on going out during night hours would have no hold over him. he had commented himself on the hypocrisy of it. the convoluted nature of it, too – the rest of them were far too straightforwards to do something like this.

he finds himself conflicted. there's the possibility that tenko killed angie, in which case – no one else has to die. but . . . if kiyo killed tenko, is it really a good thing he might still have a chance to live? and there was always the chance he _had_ done it.

it's almost a shame.

kiyo was smart and had interesting stories to tell, and had contributed the _how_ in some of the class trials in areas that kokichi hadn't quite managed to put together. and it would have been more refreshing if kiyo weren't so obviously a killer to be from day one. it was too obvious.

but this was confusing, too.

wasn't shuichi supposed to be the good type of person? and kiyo had just killed someone, and yet one of them had immediately done what they could to give him medical attention, while the other seemed to barely notice it at all. he would have to add that to his notes of them. well. would his notes on kiyo even be relevant any more?

damn, though, his head hurt. he kept blinking, as though he could get rid of the blurriness in his vision that way. it did feel . . . a little bit better, as kiyo finished bandaging it, and he sets a hand on the ground, ready to push himself up and begin investigating again. kiyo's hold is tight on his wrist, though, pulling him right back down again.

' you'll need to be . . . as able as you can be for the class trial, ' he says simply. ' given your head injury, you should get as much rest as you can. '

suspicion suddenly rises, sharp and bright and cloying, like bile, in his chest, and he puts both of his hands underneath him, making another effort to try and stand. so this is why he helped him. in order to keep him from trying to keep investigating. still, he tries to keep the immediate suspicion off his face. ' but what about the investigation, kiyo? do you really want tenko and angie's killers to get away with it? ' he scoffs, gently resting his head on the wall with a bit of a wince. ' come on, do you really trust . . . _miu_ to figure this out? '

kiyo's eyes are unreadable as he leans back on the wall with kokichi. ' . . . perhaps not her, but our classmates in all? yes. enough to think they're able enough to manage without our contributions. ' he adjusts the brim of his hat, shadowing his eyes as he asks ' besides. you have your own suspicions already, yes? '

did that count as a confession?

did killers like kiyo, who might have killed two people without reason or remorse, feel guilt like that? what reason could he possibly have had for this? then again – he seemed like he had been a killer before the game, too. what reason could he have for that?

maybe everyone suffered a few moments of guilty conscience, at the end of all things.

he hopes his suspicion isn't showing as clearly as he's feeling it, as he shrugs. ' could have been himiko, you know? she never really seemed to like tenko anyway. ' he does his best to seem cavalier about it, but he can almost feel the minute amount that the tension in kiyo's body releases, when he doesn't list him as a suspect.

contempt.

there and hot in his chest, right behind his sternum, bitter and making him have to resist the urge to curl up his lip, wrinkle his nose. killers. weren't they all the same, in the end? but kaede and kirumi at least – they had been desperate to live, or to do it for someone else. he couldn't fathom someone kiyo would die for.

did he kill just for the sake of it? that could explain why there were two victims, as well.

' are you worried? ' he asks, propping his chin on his hand and wincing as even the slight shift in pressure sends pain shooting through his head.

kiyo raises a thin eyebrow, golden eyes turning to look at him slowly, carefully. so carefully put-together, carefully composed, like he always is. kokichi wonders if he'll break before he dies. what there is underneath. ' worried about . . . ? '

' wellll, the trial, of course. ' he presses a finger to his lips. ' maybe you're about to die, you know? ' kiyo's eyes narrow marginally. kokichi's smile is innocent. ' after all, if the killer succeeds, we're all going to die, you know? do you worry about that at all? '

his head was starting to feel just a little bit better, and he hates that. hates the idea that he might have to, in any capacity, be in debt to a killer.

kiyo looks away from him, eyes set on a vague point across the hall. ' you know, kokichi, ' he says, voice quiet and lilting as it ever is, his hands gripping his own shoulders contemplatively, ' if you suspect me, you can just say as much. i will not be hurt by it. i have known from the first day on that i am someone people might think suspicious. '

' mayyyybe i do, mayyyybe i don't, ' kokichi sings, knee bouncing in agitation he wishes he could control better than this. ' like you said, kiyo! you can be pretty suspicious sometimes. especially with the séance stuff. '

' it _is_ odd that it didn't work, ' kiyo murmured, seemingly lost in his own thought. he pushes himself to his feet. ' wait here. i need to get something. '

ah, so here it was. he wasn't going to come back, was he? he was leaving to go hide some evidence or something like that. maybe mislead the investigation. maybe he was just leaving kokichi here to bleed out or something like that. he wasn't going to come back, at any rate.

as such, he's only all the more surprised when kiyo _does,_ pulling out two unopened cans of panta, a package of cookies, and a small bottle of pills, and setting them down in front of kokichi. ' here. this should be effective as a painkiller, and to help with the disorientation. the other things are for your blood loss. ' he takes his seat again on the wall next to kokichi. ' i brought everything in sealed packages, and the pills in the bottle so you can confirm i haven't tampered with them yourself, since it seems evident you don't trust me. '

it's . . . strangely thoughtful of him. but it doesn't seem like anything _has_ been tampered with, so he cracks open one of the cans and downs two pills, the cold soda burning his throat as he chugs it. he supposes it _is_ sugar water. is this a bribery? does kiyo think he can buy kokichi's silence with something like this? is he trying to make him feel guilty, maybe? it won't work.

he finds himself scowling at the panta label almost absently as his thoughts churn over in his head. might as well bite the bullet and ask, then. his head is too fuzzy still to be able to pick him apart with any reliable accuracy. he can't tell apart his paranoia and his justifiable fears, right now. ' why are you helping, anyway? i thought you were going to tear my nerves out or something. '

kiyo shrugs, fiddling with the silver pendant that hangs around his neck, examining it – a habit he has when he's deep in thought, kokichi has noticed. ' perhaps i just felt like it. would you accept that as an answer? ' kokichi just raises an eyebrow skeptically, wincing as the pull on his facial muscles irritates the wound.

the anthropologist sighs. ' . . . because, in all probability, no one else was going to bother. thus, by process of elimination . . . it becomes my responsibility, doesn't it? '

' i don’t know, ' kokichi says, shrugging. ' you could've just done nothing. '

kiyo shifts to lean forwards over his carefully folded knees, hands knitting together. ' _we are men of action,_ ' he quips. kokichi knows what he's _saying,_ of course, that it isn't completely in his nature to just ignore things like that ( and it was true enough – he participated in all the trials, in the investigations, their ventures through the tunnel ) but . . . he does also know how the rest of the quote goes.

' _lies do not become us_? ' he finishes. ' are you sure about that, kiyo? i think lies are a pretty becoming look on either of us. ' he notices with some distaste that there's a splinter underneath one of his fingernails, and begins, albeit clumsily, to try and extricate it.

( i know you're lying. you know i know you're lying. why keep up this charade of caring? )

he almost wants to ask kiyo for another story as they wait here. it's not like he's going to have another opportunity to, after all – and it was one of the anthropologist's few redeeming qualities. but he stays quiet, his last words the only ones to sully the air.

kiyo's eyes just look . . . weary, as he turns them away from the other boy. ' if you insist. '

* * *

kokichi is . . . uncharacteristically quiet, as the two of them sit there, waiting for the summons to the class trial. when it comes, kiyo pushes himself to his feet in a fluid motion and offers kokichi a hand up. while kokichi may suspect him, he still takes it, pulling himself up and making a dramatic show of dusting himself off.

the quiet is . . . appreciated, but at the same time, unnerving. something to take his mind off of the trial to come might have been good. still – though kokichi will need more thorough medical attention for that head wound than he can provide, especially on the spot like he had, he takes some pride in the idea that kokichi would at least be able to stay upright and contentious as ever in the trial.

was that a good thing? should he have turned this into an opportunity?

he finds himself with one key question, as they begin to make their way towards the trial room.

did he _want_ to get away with this? did he really want someone to find him out? did he want to leave this place? well – of course he did. he wanted to travel again, and he wanted to be able to fulfill his promise to sister. but he couldn't be sure – when it came down to it. would he really be willing, if it came down to it, to have his friends die in order for him to leave this place? because that's what his success would ensure.

of course he wants to get out of here. of course he wants to finish what he promised.

but it's still a question he struggles with as he and kokichi rejoin the group, waiting for the elevator to emerge. how curious. death has never been a moral struggle he's dealt with before. but . . . then again, he's never had anyone but sister to care about the lives of before. he finds himself thinking of his peers as his friends, and wonders again when that had happened.

if they did die here, it would be such a shame. they were all so beautiful.

they begin to board the elevator, and he finds himself shot through with an odd kind of nostalgia, as he turns his head to look at the academy once again as the doors slowly close. their situation was awful, yes, but the place itself . . . the people . . . his lab . . . in an odd sort of way, he thought fondly of them.

he leaned back against one of the sides of the elevator, feeling the now-familiar rumbling through his back as they began their descent, and made his peace with the fact that one way or the other, he would never step foot in the ultimate academy for gifted juveniles again.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comment if you liked, etc. 
> 
> i just really wish we had more moments between these two greasy boys tbh


End file.
